


A Lesson In Manners

by DelilahBlueEyes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahBlueEyes/pseuds/DelilahBlueEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because there was a challenge in the Rumbelle tinychat when I was there to write animated furniture being caught in… awkward situations with their master and his pretty maid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson In Manners

“Oh! Oh, Rum…”

“Yes? Something you wanted more of, dearest?”

“Stop teasing me and just—Oh!”

“What…. That?”

“Mmm.”

The sound of a throat clearing was almost lost behind the moan that seemed to expand until it filled the high space of the library. The couple twisted around each other on the large oak table only continued to writhe against each other, breathing heavily and whispering hotly to each other.

“Well, if I’m to be used as an object I suppose I ought not expect to be listened to, hmm?”

That got their attention.

“What the hell?” Rumpelstiltskin lifted his mouth from his lovers throat and batted away the bit of hair that clung to his skin. “What was that?”

“That was me!” The table beneath them gave a great lurch, causing both of its passengers to scramble to the floor with no concern for dignity.

“Rumple, the table is talking. Why is the table talking!” Belle whispered anxiously, her face flaming as she worked to hold her loosened gown around herself.

“The table has a name and I’ll thank you to use it!” Came the prim voice again as one of the table legs stamped loudly against the flagstone floor.

Belle waited a beat for the openmouthed man beside her to step in and assuage the apparently animated furniture but he only stood staring at the intricately carved edging and said nothing. Finally she sighed and walked around the table to face the side where the voice appeared to be coming from.

“I apologize wholeheartedly for our rude and… inappropriate behavior. It was very wrong of us to act as we did and I hope that you will forgive us…er… I’m terribly sorry, but what is your name?”

“Well, I should think you are sorry. Waltzing about the castle as though it were your boudoir,” came the mumbled but somewhat mollified reply. “Name’s Petunia.”

“Petunia? What a lovely name. You know, Petunia, I think a vase of your lovely namesake from the garden would brighten up this room immeasurably. Wouldn’t you say? I believe I spotted some purple blooms out in the garden just the other day.”

“Well, I wouldn’t presume to- I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose or anything…”

“Nonsense! It’s the least I can do after… this.” Belle gestured vaguely between herself and her now very bemused lover, too afraid of offending her newly won friend to motion to her as well.

“Well, it’s all very well to have… urges, but they are best confined to the bedroom, is all I have to say.” If a table could look embarrassed, Belle was sure Petunia would be blushing.

“Ah, yes, we’ll keep that in mind in the future. Thank you for being so understanding, Petunia. I’ll be back tomorrow to read and bring you those flowers, alright?”

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble, dear.”

Belle assured her it was not before leading a still dumbfounded sorcerer down out of the tower and toward the bedroom they’d been sharing.

“Well, that was a bit humiliating,” she said when they’d made it to the base of the winding staircase.

“I was just scolded by a piece of furniture. A piece of my furniture!” Rumpelstiltskin cried, having moved beyond the shock of the experience and into the indignation of being scolded by something that usually only held up his tea tray and valuable trinkets.

“Yes, you were. But you know what?” Belle asked as she drew to a halt in the corridor and turned to face him. He made a questioning noise and she reached behind her to push open the door she’d been standing in front of. “She did give us the very good advice of finding a bedroom to continue our illicit activities in.”

“Yes, alright, but if the bed or wardrobe start commenting on my technique I’m going to start a roaring bonfire on the front lawn and pitch them all in.”


End file.
